


It's Cold Outside

by LightningInABottle, swanofthelake



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1940s, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Christmas, F/F, Female Alexandra Hamilton, Female Thomas Jefferson, Feminism, Flirting, Genderbending, Infidelity, James Madison Is A Cat, Lesbians, Mistaken Identity, Pseudonyms, Song Lyrics, Thomas Definitely Put On The Dress To Capture Herself A Lesbian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 15:08:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17164256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightningInABottle/pseuds/LightningInABottle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/swanofthelake/pseuds/swanofthelake
Summary: As a woman in the 1940's, Alexandra Schuyler does what she can in order to gain credibility in the political world. Even if that means writing under a male pseudonym and telling nobody her secret. Not even her well-meaning but never enough husband, Elijah.Alexandra spent her spare time arguing with her penpal rival, a mister Thomas Jefferson, but a Christmas invitation proves that Thomas Jefferson was definitely not the man she thought he would be.In fact, he wasn't a man at all, and Alexandra finds that she doesn't mind in the least. Now she has all the time in the world to learn more about her self-proclaimed rival.After all, it is too cold outside to leave so soon.





	It's Cold Outside

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written by two other Christmas lesbians! I love you so much, my dearest swanofthelake! Merry Christmas, my darling <3

It started—like so many things in Alexandra Schuyler’s life did—with a pen and paper and a whisper of an idea in mind. But instead of publishing a pamphlet in the local newspaper under her male pseudonym or sending a letter to New York’s governor about women’s rights, this came in the form of a letter. Frankly, an invitation.

* * *

 

_Hello Mr. Alexander Hamilton,_

_I’m sure you’ve been reading my papers just as much as I have been reading yours. After all, where else would those clever rebuttals you write come from? We have toed around each other for the better part of a year now, publishing essays referencing the other and the other’s supposedly incorrect opinions. But the question remains: why have two great minds such as ours not met yet?_

_In any case, I believe that even though our political beliefs vary greatly, we can still meet together and discuss pleasantries on the common grounds of persuasive penmanship. Since you provide no personal information in your articles, I am forced to send this letter to you through the newspaper printers. I hope it reaches you in good health._

_Please send to the following enclosed address your response to a possible meeting._

_Regards,_

_Th. Jefferson_

* * *

 

It was a short letter, barely a note, nothing like the papers Jefferson so frequently published. Alexandra found that ever since she started submitting her own articles, using her maiden name to do so, an opposing viewpoint had appeared. Thomas Jefferson, another anonymous writer, was brilliant. Perhaps one of the most brilliant people Alexandra had ever met, with the exception of Erin Burr and Elijah Schuyler. But where Burr was too cowardly to state her opinions—deferring to ‘ _traditional womanly duties’—_ and Elijah simply wasn’t concerned with politics, Jefferson was an inferno of perfectly structured arguments.

Alexandra had found herself lured in, how could she not? Jefferson was the most challenging opponent she had ever met, and their back-and-forth essays were something that she looked forward to. Elijah had commented on her unusual energy, asked about why Alexandra seemed so _lively._ Alexandra had simply shrugged it off, retiring to her room as quickly as possible so that she could continue writing in secret.

She hated keeping what made her happiest away from her husband, but it was necessary. If anyone found out that Alexandra Schuyler, wife of the middle son of the most influential family in New York, was actually Alexander Hamilton, a renowned secretive writer who focused of politics and economics, her reputation would be destroyed. And now she had received this letter, an invitation to meet her greatest adversary and greatest entertainment.

 _Alexandra couldn’t go._ She knew that the risk was too high, the possibilities too numerous to puzzle out. Speaking from the safety of her hidden makeshift desk was one thing, this was something completely different. She couldn’t go, couldn’t meet Jefferson without revealing something that would most definitely soil her husband’s name. And yet she found herself sitting down and scribbling out a hasty response before she could change her mind.

* * *

 

_Mr. Thomas Jefferson,_

_I must admit, your writings did intrigue me. Having an opponent so eloquent as you has definitely piqued my interest. After all, debating run-of-the-mill Republicans has been a bore. But you, Mr. Jefferson, have a certain air of verboseness that I have only ever found in one other person: myself._

_Say I did wish to meet you, where would I go to do so? I’ll assume your anonymity is for a good reason, and therefore conclude that your house would be improper?_

_Best of wishes,_

_A. Ham_

* * *

And if she finally went to bed that night and thought of the mysterious stranger who fought with her like an equal, that was nobody’s business.

And if she almost leaped through the ceiling when she received a response, nobody needed to know.

And if her hands shook as she opened the fine parchment envelope, she certainly didn’t acknowledge it.

* * *

_Hello again, Mr. Hamilton,_

_Imagine my surprise at receiving your letter, here I thought you were the cautious one out of the two of us._

_Now that the holiday season is upon us, most of my family has gone back to Virginia. I am unmarried, so my house will be empty on the 23rd. Is that permissible for you? I will enclose the address just in case._

_Forgive my forwardness, but why must your identity be secret?_

_Regards,_

_Th. Jefferson._

* * *

 

Alexandra could barely remember the letter she had sent back because it was only two scrawled lines. She could barely contain her excitement or her nerves.

* * *

 

_Mr. Jefferson,_

_I will be there._

_And that you will discover soon enough._

_Best of wishes,_

_A. Ham_

* * *

 

 

Alexandra’s hands were trembling, so she rubbed them together, taking deep breaths to soothe herself. _This was really happening._ She was going to meet her political opponent and reveal her greatest secret to the one person she was farthest from. But maybe it was better this way, to disappoint a stranger instead of a relative. Although Jefferson wasn’t a stranger, not even close. He was too...perceptive for that. The only person who could know you best was your enemy, even without meeting.

“Dearest, are you going anywhere?” Elijah’s voice shook Alexandra from her thoughts. She froze in the doorway, halfway through tugging out her coat.

“Yes, just to meet a friend of mine,” Alexandra called, her voice sweet but strained. Elijah came up next to her and planted a kiss on her cheekbone. He was truly amazing, but their time together was always gained by what-ifs.

What if they hadn’t met during the time Alexandra was an assistant secretary for his father? What if Angelo, with all of his good intentions, hadn’t introduced the two of them at a dinner? What if Alexandra had smiled and hugged Elijah when he proposed and told him that although she cared for him greatly, she would never want him like she did the women she saw on the street. _Like she wanted Joan, once upon a time._

But that was all in the past now.

“Be careful,” Elijah smiled at her, warm and handsome and still not enough for Alexandra, no matter what he did. “It’s cold outside.”

* * *

 

It was, in fact, very cold outside. As Alexandra made her way through the crowded street snow flurries fell from the evening sky, specks of white swirling through the air and settling on her clothes and the little bit of hair that wasn’t covered by her hat. Despite the chill, the weather was still bearable enough to walk in, which was fortunate considering Alexandra needed to avoid prying eyes.

Her eyes swept over the street signs, making sure she was headed towards the right place. Although Alexandra had wanted to take a taxi, she knew it would be difficult to go anywhere without questions being asked, like inquiries on whether or not her husband knew she was traveling alone. But walking to her destination had its benefits, like being able to tell herself that the briskness of her steps was because of the chill and not her rapidly-growing excitement.

After turning onto a street that held houses as lavish as the one she lived in now, Alexandra realised just how close she was to revealing her greatest secret to her enemy. The tiniest hints of nervousness began to creep through her, setting her on edge as she got closer to the home she needed to find.

It wasn’t long before she stood on the doorstep of Thomas Jefferson’s house, the frantic pounding of her heart unmistakable. Before she could rethink her decision, Alexandra raised her hand to the mahogany wood door and knocked four times.  

Now that she was standing still, the winter air bit at her skin more than ever before. Alexandra rubbed her hands together while she waited by the door. She could feel the chill of the wind trying to freeze her skin to no avail.

‘C’mon, Jefferson,” she murmured against her frigid palms. “It’s cold out here.” The sound of the lock clicking open made Alexandra’s eyes snap to the door. She saw the handle turning, and she had only moments to compose herself before her eyes met with those of the woman standing in the doorway.

“May I help you?” The woman asked in a slow drawl, her lips curving up into a full smile.

The hallway light made it hard for Alexandra to see her at first, but the curves she saw were not the contours of a man’s body. She squinted until her eyes adjusted to a brightly coloured velvet dress, almost too lavish to be real. It fell in elegant folds to settle around the woman’s knees, accentuating her body in a way that most definitely should have been illegal.

When Alexandra, at last, looked away at last from the woman’s dress to instead look into her eyes, her breath caught in her throat.

Dark curls cascaded down over her shoulders to fall just below her elbows, kept loose and unrestrained. Her full lips were painted a bright magenta in the same shade as her dress. Such a shade should have been garish, but it was instead far from it. Alexandra could hardly look at anything else, but she forced herself to tear her eyes away.

Jefferson had promised to be alone, and yet it was a woman—an admittedly gorgeous woman—who had answered the door. Indignation rose up in Alexandra’s chest, not only at being deceived into revealing her secret to one other person, but with a jealousy that she would never admit.

“I’m looking for Thomas Jefferson.” She tore her gaze away from the woman to peer around her and down the hallway. “Would you happen to know where he is?” The woman didn’t answer her question. She simply raised an eyebrow.

“And who might you be?” She asked. Alexandra watched as the woman’s eyes studied her carefully, her accent something distinctly Southern.

“Alexander Hamilton,” Alexandra said, her patience wearing thin. “Jefferson said he would be here. He also said he would be _alone,_ and I am quite sure I got the right address.”

The woman looked like a deer caught in headlights for a mere second. Her wide eyes flickered all over Alexandra’s face, taking her in bit by bit. Then, the look of shock was gone, replaced by an easy smile.

“You got the right address, _Alexander,_ ” she said, the pen name rolling off her tongue with curiosity. She held out a single gloved hand, her smile widening, and said, “I’m pleased to see you accepted my invitation.”

And at once, Alexandra understood: this woman was Thomas Jefferson.

 _The_ Thomas Jefferson.

Her mouth went dry.

“Well?” Jefferson quirked a brow. “Aren’t you going to shake my hand?”

Somehow, Alexandra found it within herself to grasp Jefferson's hand and give it a weak shake. “I must admit,” Jefferson began as she pulled away, her eyes sweeping over Alexandra’s body. “I wasn’t expecting you to be a woman. But to say that I am disappointed would be a lie.”

“ _You're_ Thomas Jefferson?” Alexandra asked when she finally got her tongue to work. Amusement danced in Jefferson’s eyes.

“The one and only.” Her gaze dropped to Alexandra's hands, and she moved to hold the door open wider. “Come in, _Alexander.”_ In her shock, Alexandra had forgotten how cold she was. With a grateful nod, she slipped past Jefferson into the warm house—the soft scent of Jefferson's perfume made her want to take a deep breath as she walked past, but she refrained

“So…” Jefferson drawled, turning around to close the door behind Alexandra once they were both inside. “I’m going to assume that _Alexander Hamilton_ isn’t your real name.”

“And I’m going to assume that _Thomas Jefferson_ isn’t your real name either.” Alexandra lifted an eyebrow.

Upon hearing her words, Jefferson’s expression morphed into one of smugness. “Actually, it is,” she said.

Alexandra frowned. She had never heard of ‘Thomas’ being used as a female name before. “I thought you were a man.”

Jefferson simply grinned in response. “And you were about as correct on that as you are on your views on our nation’s economy.” She paused, allowing time for Alexandra to splutter indignantly. “By the way, I still don’t know your name.”

Alexandra hesitated, feeling the natural instinct to disguise her identity appearing once more.

“Alexandra Schuyler.”

Thomas’s eyebrows shot up at the name, recognition flashing through her eyes. _Of course._ Everyone in New York knew the Schuylers.

“ _Schuyler?_ ” She repeated with growing incredulity. “I wouldn’t have guessed, considering what you write about.”

“Oh?” Alexandra raised an eyebrow, but Thomas ignored her.

“May I take your coat?” She slipped it off Alexandra’s shoulders before Alexandra could answer. “Please, call me Thomas.”

Watching her settle the jacket into the coat rack, Alexandra took off her gloves and stowed them away in the pocket of her coat. She found her eyes wandering to Thomas again. How was it that she had never known that the person she had been talking to was a woman?

“How are you acting so calm about this?” She asked, the question slipping from her lips before she could think of stopping.

“There’s only so many times one can write about women's rights before some questions are raised.” She glanced over her shoulder with a sly smile as she led Alexandra to the kitchen. “Wine?”

Stunned, Alexandra just nodded.

As Thomas poured, Alexandra took the opportunity to peer around the house. White marble covered the kitchen counters, and obsidian tiles decorated the floors.

The next thing that caught her eyes was the cat. The cat looked more like a vividly-coloured mop than a living animal, and it took Alexandra a few moments to realise what she was looking at: a cat in a sweater. Thomas noticed her staring and followed her gaze.

“That’s James,” she said as she pressed a glass of wine into Alexandra’s hand. “He’s my baby.” Thomas’s _baby_ looked rather mad—his nose wrinkled up in disgruntlement. He sneezed, a small, quiet sound. Alexandra couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight, keeping her eyes still trained on James as long as she could as she followed Thomas into the luxurious living room.

Sleek leather couches were pushed up against the walls—they looked brand new. A fluffy rug warmed Alexandra’s feet as she stepped into the living room. Cream walls complemented the light wash floorboards. A fireplace crackled in the corner. Thomas spent no time settling herself down on the couch and looking up at Alexandra expectantly.

Alexandra sat down as well, a slight thrill running through her when their legs brushed. She turned her head to look at Thomas, once again marveling over how unfairly _gorgeous_ she was. But Alexandra was quickly snapped out of her thoughts when Thomas spoke.

“So, Alexandra.” Thomas ran her finger along the rim of her glass. “Why not write as a woman?”

It was the first question anyone ever asked her, and it was this very same question that Alexandra had been prepared for.

“No one ever takes women’s rights seriously when it’s a woman talking about them. They get brushed aside, ignored. And that simply doesn’t work for me.”

A smile began to spread across Thomas’ lips. “Somehow, that’s exactly the answer I expected from you.”

“And what exactly did you expect from me?” Alexander leaned in closer.

There was something secretive in Thomas’ expression when she said, “who knows?” Neither of them said anything for a second, content to simply bask in each other’s company and drink their wine. But then curiosity began to get the better of Alexander, and it wasn’t long before she spoke again.

“Why did you invite me over here?” Alexandra finally asked. The question had been on her mind since she had stepped through the door, and it finally burst forth.

Thomas looked at her over the rim of her glass. “What better time to finally meet the woman who has taken up so much of my mind than during Christmas?”

“You thought I was a man.”

“Did I?” A smirk-like smile spread across Thomas’ lips.

“I certainly thought _you_ were one,” Alexander said, frowning to herself. Now that she thought back, she wondered how she didn’t figure it out. It seemed so obvious now.

“Are you disappointed?”

Was Alexandra simply imagining the vulnerability in Thomas’s voice?

“Not at all. In fact, consider me…” Alexandra smiled and took a sip of her wine. “ _Pleasantly surprised.”_

Thomas’ eyes didn’t leave Alexandra’s when she took a long drink of her wine. She pulled away to lick her bottom lip slowly, as though to savour the taste of the wine. In that moment, Alexandra realised there was something between them she hadn’t noticed before – something more than just a rivalry. It should have frightened her. In some ways, it did. But it did more than that: it _excited_ her.

Part of her wanted to flee and never return for fear of what she may do if she stayed. Another part wanted to see what would become of this strange tension. And she wasn’t quite sure which was more dangerous of a thought to have.

“Thank you for your hospitality, but I really can't stay.” Alexandra rose from her seat, smoothing her hands down the front of her skirt.

“We’ve barely spoken.” A frown tugged at the corners of Thomas’ lips. She took Alexandra’s glass from her hand and settled it on the coffee table. “I want to get to know you a little better.” Something in the way Thomas leaned forward sent a complicated mix of emotions through Alexandra’s pounding heart

“I appreciate it, but it’s getting late,” she said, not meeting Thomas’s eyes and making her way towards the exit,

“But, darlin’, it's cold outside,” Thomas said, following Alexandra to the front door. The pet name—accented by the Southern twang—was enough to stop Alexandra in her tracks, but not enough to keep her from thinking of Elijah. Sweet, loyal Elijah who was most likely waiting for her to get home.

“I know, but I have to leave right away.”

Thomas was not deterred, and something in her in her expression gave Alexandra pause. The longing in her eyes was deeply familiar to Alexandra. After all, she saw it every time she looked in a mirror. _Longing_ for something _more._ Alexandra shook off the thought as fast as possible, trying to put more distance between her and her unfairly alluring rival.

“But, darlin’, it's cold out there. And I’ve been hoping that you'd drop in for a very long time.”

Alexandra shook her head with a polite smile. “This evening has been so very nice.” As soon as Alexandra reached for her gloves, Thomas took her hands into her own.

“Stay a little longer?” Thomas asked. “Your hands are just like ice.”

“My husband will start to worry.” Alexandra glanced down at their hands, then up at Thomas, desperately trying not to focus on how nice the small bit of affection felt. Thomas gave her a hint of a smile in return. She didn’t seem put off by the fact that Alexandra had mentioned her marriage. Instead, she only continued to use her affectionate term with that sparkling look in her eyes.

“Darlin’, don’t go so soon.” Thomas’ hands were soft, gentle. Alexandra never wanted to let go. “Just a little while longer? I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“He will worry all night if I don’t hurry home.”

“He will be fine without you. Why leave the comfort of the fireplace?” Thomas led Alexandra back to the warmth of the fire—it was nearly as warm as her smile.

“It’d be best if I left before the storm gets worse.” Alexandra’s eyes flickered back to Thomas. Did she really want to leave? “But maybe half a drink more would be all right.” Thomas grinned at her, a pleased look in her eyes.

“Put some records on while I pour us another drink.” She gestured to the record player in the corner of the room, a neat stack of records sitting close by. When Alexandra didn’t move, the look on Thomas’s face coaxed her to action. She walked a few paces to the record player, selecting a random disk labeled _‘Christmas.’_ As she put it into the record player and set the needle, Thomas moved back to the kitchen and refilled both of their glasses.

Alexandra turned around, some lighthearted jazz music playing, and was momentarily startled by how close Thomas was, a drink in each hand. With her back pressed against the record player, Alexandra’s breathing began to pick up. Thomas has drawn so near that every breath fluttered against Alexandra’s cheek. There was no denying the tension that had formed between them, not when both of them were all too aware of it.

“The neighbors might think…” Alexandra trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. A small, traitorous part of her brain murmured ‘ _let them.’_ Instead of responding to Alexandra, Thomas simply handed her a glass of wine and winked. Alexandra’s cheeks immediately flushed at the implication, and she took her opportunity to step past Thomas as she took a sip. They were left standing next to each other in the living room, music filling the air around them.

“Darlin’, it's bad out there. You won't be able to find a cab.” Thomas was still too close for comfort, and her fingers brushed over Alexandra’s collarbone, causing an electric shiver to run through her body. Panic jolted through her just as quickly—torn between staying and letting this strange attraction develop—or leaving before both of them made a mistake.

But how could _this_ ever be a mistake?

“Say, what's in this drink?” Of course, Alexandra knew it was nothing she hadn’t drank before. She just needed to say something to diffuse the unbearable tension between them.

Their eyes met once more, gazes interlocking with all the intensity of their arguments. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, and Alexandra found herself entranced by the way Thomas looked at her. But then, Thomas spoke, her voice barely more than a murmur.

“Your eyes rival the stars,” Thomas said, her voice so sweet yet so quiet that Alexandra almost missed it.

Alexandra’s breath caught in her throat at the candid words, her heart fluttering like a caged bird against her ribcage. Never could she have anticipated something like this. Her yearlong political rival also happened to be the epitome of everything Alexandra desired. But how could she let herself continue their playful flirting when it was turning so much more dangerously serious? Alexandra had a reputation to think about, and a husband.

“I wish I knew how to break this spell.” Alexandra sighed quietly, resigning herself to a lifetime of always feeling that inexplicable pull to Thomas. She pulled away from their dance, steeling herself so that she wouldn’t hesitate when she collected her clothing and walked out the door. She reached the hook where her hat hung before Thomas could even react to her sudden change and put it on. Of course, the universe must have decided to curse her with temptation, because the next thing she knew, Thomas had used those ridiculously long legs of hers to come up behind Alexandra and pluck the hat from her head.

“I'll take your hat.” Thomas tucked a stray strand of Alexandra's hair behind her ear, something strangely affectionate in her expression. “Besides, your hair looks so nice.”

Alexandra couldn’t help but laugh. “I should probably say no to this, Miss Jefferson.” She really should. This had gone too far as it is, and she couldn’t allow it to continue. But the way that Thomas touched her, how their presences seemed to fit together perfectly, complementing and challenging each other after only an evening of interacting.

“Are you going to?” Thomas stepped forward, far past what was usually acceptable. Alexandra could see the question in her eyes and realized that despite her insistent flirting, Thomas truly wouldn’t do anything that would make her uncomfortable. Although the knowledge that she should have left a long time ago weighed heavily on Alexandra, she also knew she couldn’t resist the siren spell Thomas had cast on her.

“At least I'm gonna say that I tried,” she sighed, heated pinpricks spreading across her skin when Thomas's hands settled over Alexandra's waist.

“Is hurting my pride really worth it?” Thomas’s tone was joking, but the grin on her lips faded slightly when Alexandra uttered another weak protest, resolve crumbling every second. Alexandra took Thomas’ hands off of her and turned back towards the door, refusing to see the disappointment in Thomas’ eyes.

“I really can't stay.” The same exact thing Alexandra had said so many times now, but this time it was true. _It had to be._ Because with the way Thomas was looking at her, she wasn’t sure she could resist a moment longer.

“But darlin’, it's cold outside.” Just like Alexandra’s protest, Thomas’ response was one she had said many times this evening. But Alexandra was resolute. Not even the Southern lilt to Thomas’ voice could persuade her to stay. No matter how much she wanted to, wanted to see where this would lead.

“I simply must go.”

Before Alexandra could so much as reach for the handle of the door, Thomas grabbed her hand and twirled her around until their fingers were interlocked as they faced each other. A peal of laughter escaped Alexandra’s lips before she could stop it. It was the most fun she’d had in a long time. For a moment, she forgot why she ever wanted to leave.

“You were far kinder than I thought you would be,” she commented, letting Thomas sweep them into a dance, which was more of a sway to the music that had continued playing, than anything else. Their legs brushed, and Alexandra jolted at their sudden proximity.

“I’m grateful you came by so early. Look out the window at this storm. It’s getting worse by the minute. You couldn’t leave now.”

Although Alexandra didn’t want to admit it, Thomas was right. The snow that was only slightly falling when she had left was now coming down in blankets of white.

“If I stay a moment longer, my in-laws will get suspicious.” Philip Schuyler had so often eyed Alexandra warily, not trusting her to be a ‘ _proper wife and helper’_ to his son. From the very beginning, he had made it clear that he only supported her and Elijah’s union because he loved her. But rumours still swirled amongst the other Schuylers, talk of how Alexandra only married Elijah for money, how she was too headstrong, too rebellious to ever be a good homemaker. Staying until late at night at a stranger’s house would only fire up those rumours.

“Look.” Thomas’ eyes flickered upwards, and Alexandra followed her gaze, all thoughts of in-laws shaken from her mind. Hanging right above them was a sprig of white and green mistletoe. Alexandra’s heart skipped a beat when Thomas’s eyes drifted down to her lips, lingering there. “Mind if I have a taste?” Alexandra’s cheeks were most definitely burning bright red, and she was unable to muster any resistance.

Thomas leaned in so quickly that Alexandra had no time to pull away and pressed her lips to Alexandra’s. It was a chaste kiss, one commonly exchanged by friends. But even so, it stunned Alexandra to silence and left a pleasant buzzing in her veins. Thomas’ lips—the warm, velvety soft ones that had been touched to Alexandra’s only moments before—curved into a smile. “You taste as good as I had hoped.”

“I can’t stay too long, what will my neighbour think if I come home late?” Alexandra realised that neither of them had moved away, and neither was willing to, so their lips brushed with every word. Music still played in the background, although their dance had stilled completely. Alexandra’s heart raced, and she had never recalled feeling such powerful attraction, such intense desire, towards someone. Not Erin, most definitely not Elijah, not even Joan. Thomas simply outshone all of them, setting Alexandra’s skin and soul aflame with just a few words and lingering touches.

When they finally pulled away, their half-kiss had left Alexandra’s head spinning, turned her into someone dizzy and intoxicated. Something in Thomas’ smile convinced her to stay for just moment longer. “Maybe a second longer won’t hurt…” As long as a moment more would guarantee more of those amazing kisses, Alexandra would stay as many moments as it took.

“After all, you couldn’t leave in such a storm.” Thomas looked pleased, and her eyes still continued to flicker to Alexandra’s lips. Alexandra realised that this was going too far. If she wouldn’t stop now, she never would. The knowledge was sobering, giving her the strength to pull away.

“I really should be heading home.” She turned away, trying to memorialize the taste of Thomas's lips before she lost it forever, but Thomas grasped her hand. Her touch was gentle, fingertips smooth against the callouses on Alexandra’s palm.

“A tiny thing like you will turn to ice.” Thomas warmed Alexandra’s fingers between her hands. At that moment,  Alexandra felt so warm and fuzzy that she didn’t notice the teasing remark directed at her height. She looked back over her shoulder, to the coat rack where an eye-aching magenta piece of clothing. The thought of taking a piece of Thomas back home with her made a thrill pass through her bloodstream.

“I won’t if you give me a coat,” Alexandra insisted, turning closer to the door. Thomas shook her head, gesturing to the frost-coated window.

“It won’t help out there,” Thomas said, pressing her lips to Alexandra’s knuckles before releasing her hold on them.

“You’re far nicer than I expected.” Alexandra felt her cheeks flush dark pink at the oddly romantic gesture.

“I simply never want you to leave.” Thomas’ words sent a shock through Alexandra’s body. Never had she heard such plaintive honestly from someone. It should have been startling, how quickly their mutual infatuation had developed, but neither of them was willing to stop what started the second Thomas had opened that door. Or maybe the second she sent the letter.

“I have to go, don’t you see?” Alexandra frowned. Thomas‘ lips tugged downwards, too.

“We still have so much to talk about. We still have so much to do.”

“Think of the rumours that will spread.” The people of New York were vicious, especially to illegitimate orphan immigrants. There had already been enough gossip about Alexandra’s reasons for marrying Elijah, along with her _intimate friendship_ with Joan. Staying at this gorgeous woman’s house would only fuel the fire.

“Ignore them, and think of how sad I’d be if you got pneumonia and died before I met you again.” Alexandra was unable to help her slight smirk at the dramatic words. Thomas’s face softened with a hopeful light that warmed Alexandra as surely as the fireplace.

“At the very least there would be plenty implied.”

“Let them imply,” Thomas murmured, taking one step forward, then another until they were standing once again under the mistletoe hanging from the doorway. But instead of being upright, Thomas backed Alexandra gently against the door. Her eyes dropped down to Alexandra's lips, such tender desire in her expression that the last bit of Alexandra’s resistance vanished. She could hardly remember a time when she had _wanted_ this much, to the point where she was all but overwhelmed with longing.

“I really can't stay.” Alexandra's voice was weak, a last-ditch attempt at hoping that Thomas would agree, open and close the door for her, and keep both of their reputations safe. But instead of doing any of that, Thomas cupped her jaw, leaning in slowly until their every breath mingled together.

“That out won’t work anymore,” she said, leaning in until their noses brushed and foreheads touched together. There was no use fighting anymore, and Alexandra’s mind drifted away from leaving and towards staying. _Towards Thomas._ Everything else faded away exept for Thomas’s sweet perfume that flooded Alexandra’s nose when some of her curls fell forwards, the soft velvet of her dress that Alexandra ran her fingers over when her palms touched Thomas’s waist. And the intoxicating softness of her lips when they finally touched Alexandra’s own, a whisper of a promise in them.

“Darlin’, it's cold…” Alexandra mimicked Thomas, unable to stop the quiet gasp that escaped her when she felt one of Thomas’s hands settle on the small of her back, pulling them flush against each other. The door pressed into Alexandra’s spine, but she could hardly bring herself to care, especially when Thomas’s fingers were threading through her hair, tilting her head upwards so that she could kiss her again—properly, this time.

“Darlin’, it's cold outside,” Thomas repeated, their voices mixing together as surely as their mouths. It was a perfect harmony, one that Alexandra had never experienced until now. Thomas’s lips pushed insistently at hers, drawing out a small, pleased sound when she deepened the kiss. Alexandra pulled herself away from the door without breaking her and Thomas apart, letting their bodies tangle together. She knew that now this had started, she would want to stay like this forever. And why shouldn’t she stay with Thomas? With the perfect warmth of her body?

After all, it was cold outside.

**Author's Note:**

> We hope y'all enjoyed this Christmas fic, very much based on the classic song "Baby It's Cold Outside!"  
> Please tell us what you thought about these flirting disaster lesbians finding their way into each other's arms.  
> Feedback fuels our writing, and y'all should expect many more collaborations from LightningInABottle and swanofthelake.  
> Happy Holidays, everyone!


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